


Who by Fire

by anehan



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Angst, Gen, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anehan/pseuds/anehan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been an hour since Bill was taken from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who by Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Paceus and kuhlaire for the beta and to my access list on DW for a discussion on German funeral customs.

It's been an hour since Bill was taken from him. The cuts on Tom's face and hands where the glass from the windshield hit him have been cleaned, and someone is putting his broken wrist in a cast. Tom feels no pain.

His mother is sitting close by, crying, and Gordon is on the phone, talking to Bill and Tom's father. The conversation is too low to be heard, but it doesn't matter. Tom isn't paying any attention. He stares at the wall, at the chart of different-sized Es. He wonders whether his eyesight is still 20/20.

Tom doesn't feel a thing.

* * *

It's been a day since Bill was taken from him. Tom is back in his mother and Gordon's place. There are flowers from neighbours on the kitchen table, and Tom desperately wants to throw them all out. Their sickly smell makes him want to throw up.

He goes upstairs to his room, changes direction and goes to Bill's room instead. He sits on Bill's bed and fingers the blue bedspread. It's faded and soft, and he remembers all the times he sat on this very same bed, playing guitar, while Bill listened in the chair by the desk. Bill's Nena posters are still on the walls.

The room feels empty.

* * *

It's been a week since Bill was taken from him. Tom's mother and Gordon are preparing the funeral. Tom doesn't want to have anything to do with it, so he takes long walks. Every day he walks the same path that takes him past all their old haunts.

Back at home, he puts on their first single. Bill's voice sounds so young that he has trouble recognizing it. He loops the recording for hours until his mother comes in and asks him to stop it.

Tom turns the volume up.

* * *

It's been two weeks since Bill was taken from him. Tom dons a black suit and a black bandanna. His shoes are freshly polished, though there was no need for that. He so rarely wears dress shoes that they were in immaculate condition, though a little bit dusty. He polished them anyway.

Tom doesn't hear what the priest says at the funeral ceremony. He merely stares at the white casket. He has refused to see Bill's body ever since Bill was taken away from the wreck of the car. Bodies don't matter. He and Bill have always been connected at a far more fundamental level.

Now all he feels in the Bill-shaped part of his soul is emptiness.

* * *

It's been twenty-nine days since Bill was taken from him. The calls and flowers of condolence have stopped coming. The world moves on, but Tom hasn't touched his guitar since the accident. His mother and Gordon haven't said anything, but Tom knows they want to talk about it. Tom refuses to take the hint, though, and derives pleasure from their squirming.

Tom helps his mother carry the groceries inside and cooks the meal to have something to do, though he isn't the slightest bit hungry. He has stopped eating and sleeping.

At night, he prays for God to send Bill back.

* * *

It's been a month since Bill was taken from him. Tom visits Bill's grave. It has space next to him for another person, Tom made sure of it. He didn't bring flowers for the grave and he doesn't say anything. There's no need for words between him and Bill.

When he's back at home, in his room, Tom hears Gordon answer the phone in the hall. Gordon is silent for a moment and then he says: "And who shall I say is calling?"

Tom looks at the photo of Bill he has on his desk and pulls the trigger.


End file.
